The Cunning Hand
by Silver Queen
Summary: “It’s confirmed,” Tulip Jones said. “Yassen Gregorovich is alive.” Post Snakehead. Alex Rider might be finished with MI6, but they’re not finished with him.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Cunning Hand

Author: Silver Queen

Summary: "It's confirmed," Tulip Jones said. "Yassen Gregorovich is alive." (Post Snakehead) Alex Rider might be finished with MI6, but they're not finished with him.

Author's notes: This is my first Alex Rider fic, so here's hoping it goes right. I have to say, I haven't got the entire thing planned out, so it might be a little while between updates. But I just got tired of waiting for updates on other fics, and decided to try my hand at my own. Enjoy.

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* * *

--

"It's confirmed," Tulip Jones said. She had just walked into Alan Blunts office on the seventh story of the 'Royal and General' bank. As usual she was dressed in a severe grey suit and sensible black shoes. Around her neck was a necklace that could have been either silver or steel. She was sucking on a peppermint. In her hand she was clutching a thick manila folder.

"Is it?" Alan Blunt asked mildly. He was not a man that forgot things. He was aware that she was working on three different cases which could have catastrophic consequences. He was also aware that there was only one case which would have sent her to his office immediately.

"Yassen Gregorovich is alive and in working for the Black Hand," she confirmed, placing the folder on his desk, before moving to stand by the window.

"Well, then," Alan Blunt said, opening the folder and investigating the pages inside. He shuffled through them, touching them the barest minimum with the tips of his fingers.

Mrs. Jones nodded curtly. "He has identified our undercover agent." She didn't say how. That would be covered in the report. It wasn't a surprise. Yassen Gregorovich was notorious for spotting and eliminating undercover agents.

"Dead?" Blunt asked the first hint of an emotion on his face. It looked out of place.

"Hospitalized. The doctors think he will survive. He brought us this report. The whole mission is finished." She sucked furiously on her peppermint. She disliked failing. And the information that the agent had managed to uncover was disturbing. It would be a priority to send another agent in. It would also be extremely difficult.

"We have something that would distract Gregorovich," Blunt stated. He turned one of the pages over and stared at the neat, precise type on it.

"You think he would compromise his defense?" Mrs. Jones asked. Her tone was flat and gave no hint to what she was thinking.

"Undoubtedly," Blunt said. All profiles of Gregorovich after he had somehow, incredibly, survived Air Force One and escaped the well-guarded hospital, said the same thing. Gregorovich had failed to kill Rider. Gregorovich did not fail. Thus, either he had not meant to kill Rider, or he would continue to try. Either way, he would split his attentions between the Black Hand and Rider. It would be enough.

Mrs. Jones considered it. It was more than he had expected her to do. It told him she had already thought of it, and had knew it to be the only sensible course of action. "Alex will never agree to it."

Blunt considered that. She was correct. "Perhaps."

--

* * *

-- 

After he had told them, not quite politely, that he did not, in fact, wish to work for them, Alex had not expected to hear from MI6 for a very long time. Or at least, much longer than a month.

But, after returning from Australia and the disaster that his attempted infiltration of the snakehead had been, a month was all he had. And, standing in the foyer of the 'Royal and General' Bank, still in his school uniform and holding his school bag, Alex reflected that it certainly hadn't been long enough.

He was let through to Blunts office by the secretary at the front desk. The lift moved on its own, without needing input, and took him directly to the seventh floor. From there, he went to Blunt's office.

The room itself was exactly the same as it had been the last time he visited it. There was a single file on the desk, as well as ordinary, featureless office stationery items. It would not have surprised him if the items on the desk were precisely, down to the millimeter, in the same place. Certainly Blunt himself seemed to have moved less.

"Where's Mrs. Jones?" Alex asked, casting a quick look around the room. Her absence gave him an illogical uneasy feeling. It wasn't that she had always taken his side, but she had sympathized with him much more than Blunt ever had.

Blunt looked like he was tempted to ignore the question. "She is in charge of an operation that currently requires her to be elsewhere," he answered shortly. "Have a seat."

Alex sat.

"Recently, it has come to our attention," Blunt said smoothly, clasping his hands together on his desk. "That you are in some considerable danger."

Alex looked skeptical. In the past month, he had been in less danger than he'd been in for the entire previous year.

"It was not confirmed until yesterday, at which point we immediately contacted you." Blunt pulled a photograph out of the file. It was new and glossy, but slightly blurry, as though it had been taken in a great hurry. Alex looked at it and was strongly reminded of his first meeting with Alan Blunt.

Once again he was staring at a photo of Yassen Gregorovich. He felt curiously lightheaded and had to force himself to pay attention to Blunt.

"… suspect that he will go after you. After all, Yassen Gregorovich has never before failed an assignment. We feel it is prudent to assign you security, until such time as the threat is reduced…"

Alex let the man continue. He stared unblinkingly at the photograph. He thought about telling Blunt that he did not need protection. But he had never told MI6 what Yassen had said to him. And he did not know, truthfully, if he would be safe. Perhaps, having survived, Yassen had decided that it wasn't worth it. Perhaps…

"How did he survive?" He asked suddenly, cutting Blunt off.

Blunt frowned at him, as if he had interrupted something really important. "When bodies were recovered from the Air Force One, yourself among them," Blunt said, and there was a hint of something (reluctance?) in his voice. "It was discovered that Gregorovich was still alive. He was taken to St. Dominic's under heavy guard. However, once he regained consciousness, he managed to evade them and escape."

Alex nodded and looked at the photo again. "I see."

Blunt nodded apparently satisfied. "Very well. Ben Daniels is coordinating your security. I believe you are acquainted. His office is number seven hundred and thirteen on the fifth floor. He is expecting you."

Alex nodded, picked his gear up and left. He was still holding the photograph.

--

* * *

-- 

Alex made his way to the fifth floor silently. He took the lift down, which he shared with a man who looked at Alex curiously, but didn't speak. Alex didn't speak either. He just looked at the photograph in his hands and tried to sort out the whirlwind of thoughts in his head.

By the time he reached his destination, he had given up on clarity and was trying to merely keep the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach from consuming him. He knocked and opened the door. Inside, both people looked up. One Alex identified without any thought. Ben Daniels, who he'd first known as 'Fox', had helped him escape the snakehead. He'd also been shot.

The second made him pause. She was young; still in her twenties and almost absurdly attractive, with blonde hair falling to her shoulders, amazing blue eyes and movie star lips. She dressed in a grey, tailored jacket and serious shoes.

Then he remembered. Miss Treat, the MI6 spy who had been assigned to his school after Skoda had escaped and tried to kill him. She had saved his life.

Ben stood up and smiled. "Alex, nice to see you." He walked over to the door. "Alright then, Donna, if you'd like to keep working on this, I'll take Alex down to see Smithers." She nodded, smiled up at Alex in greeting, then turned back to the papers spread across the desk.

"Right then, shall we?" Ben said, moving past Alex.

"How are you anyway?" Alex said as they moved down the hallway, back towards the elevator. "You know, having been shot and all?"

Ben grinned. "Pretty good, actually. The doctors patched me up. I've been doing mainly desk work since then. This'll be my first actual assignment since I was shot. Not that I'm excited about it or anything, because I'd rather you weren't, you know, in need of protection or anything, but it is nice to be back in the field."

Alex grinned back at him. "So what _are_ you going to be doing?"

"Me? I'll be staying with you for a while. We'll still be at your place, until… well, unless something comes up. It's not a pressing threat at the moment. So don't think you can get out of school because of it, y'hear?"

Alex grinned, but he was glad. He didn't need to get any further behind in class.

"There'll be a couple of guys, just, you know, hanging about." Ben continued. "I put in a special request, but… anyway, never mind that. Donna, she'll be going back undercover as Miss Treat, your science teacher. I imagine you'll need a lot of extra help, being as you're so far behind in your classes." He looked far too amused by the thought.

"I imagine," Alex said dryly, "that if Miss Treat is there, most of my class will need extra help." He grinned. "They all did last time."

Fox sighed. "Ah, to be a teenager with a hot teacher again." He shook himself out of it. "Anyway, Smithers has been wanting to see you. I think it made his day when Blunt told him you were needing gadgets. He loves designing things for you."

"Not half as much as I love using them," Alex replied. "Smithers has saved my life more than… well, more than anyone."

"Aww," Ben teased, "here we are, taking bullets for you, right and left, and all you think of is Smithers."

--

* * *

-- 

It wasn't until he got home after visiting the Bank that he realized he'd overlooked something very important. He'd have to explain it all to Jack. He found her in the kitchen and tried to explain. She wasn't happy about it.

"Alex," she said, half moaning, leaning against the kitchen bench. "I thought we were finished with this." She ran a hand through her short red hair. It stuck up in short tufts.

"So did I," Alex said defensively. "I didn't know he was still alive. And … well, MI6 thinks he might come after me. So that's why Ben's staying with us. You'll like him," he added, desperate to sound cheerful.

Jack sighed. "I just… Alex, I just hate it when… I don't want you to get hurt, alright? And ever since you got involved with these people, all you seem to get is hurt. I thought that this house was at least one place where they couldn't get you. And now you say…" she sighed again.

Alex felt bad for making her worry. "It's probably nothing," he reassured her, hoping it was true. Yassen _probably_ wouldn't come after him. "This is probably just an over-reaction. They just want to keep me safe, too."

Jack looked at him somberly. "God, I hope so, Alex. I hope so."

--

* * *

Oh, and for your information, Miss Treat is considered a canon character. She appeared in the Alex Rider short story 'Secret Weapon' in which Skoda (from Point Blanc) comes after Alex after being released from jail.

So, there you go. Chapter 1. Please tell me what you think of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I forgot to put this in last time. Shame on me. I am not Anthony Horowitz and I do not own Alex Rider. I think some people were getting suspicious. -.-'

Author's notes: Wow, this was done quickly. I think that the number of reviews left on the last chapter must have made me super inspired or something. :) Enjoy.

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* * *

-- 

"I apologize for intruding like this," Ben said to Jack after he arrived. He smiled easily at her. Some of her tension dropped away. Alex marveled at how easily he had charmed her. "But we felt it would cause less disruption to Alex than if we took him away."

They were in the living room, Alex seated nervously on the edge of the sofa, Jack and Ben both standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. The room was in slight disarray, but cleaner than usual. Jack had insisted when she learnt they were going to have a guest, however unwelcome that guest was.

She smiled tightly in return. "I just wish it wasn't necessary," she murmured.

"Me too, Miss Starbright. And it probably isn't. We're just erring on the side of caution, that's all." He kept smiling. Jack looked more reassured than she had since Alex had told her what was happening. Alex would have felt reassured by it, too, if he couldn't see the little telltale bulge of a gun holster beneath Ben's jacket. And if he hadn't seen the man scanning the surrounding rooftops every time he looked out the window.

Maybe it was just that he was being prepared, or that old habits died hard, but it reminded Alex constantly of just _why_ Ben was staying with them. It made it impossible for him to relax.

But Jack didn't see that. She took his words at face value. "Okay, then. We weren't expecting visitors, Mr. Daniels," she said apologetically after a pause. "But Ian's old room is clear. You can stay in there, if you like."

"That would be fantastic, Miss Starbright," Ben said with another smile. He bent and picked up his bag. He only had one with him, but it was quite big.

Jack smiled back, this time without tension. "It's Jack. If you're staying here, you might as well drop the formality."

"Only if you call me Ben in return. Deal?" He held out his hand.

Jack laughed and shook it. "Deal."

"Excellent." He smiled widely, as though it truly was. "Now, Alex, you want to show me where to drop my stuff?"

The house was quite big by the standards of London (and it had certainly felt that way to Alex when he was younger, before Jack had come to live with them, when he was often there alone) but it didn't take long to point out the highlights to Ben and show him Ian's old room. It was fairly bare. After MI6 had taken most of it and they had boxed the rest up, they hadn't bothered to do anything to the room. At the time it had been too fresh. Then it had just become unimportant.

"It's been cleared. MI6 came and took pretty much everything away, so you shouldn't trip over anything, you know, dangerous." Alex fidgeted awkwardly in the doorway. Like Ian's office, his bedroom had always been off limits and Alex didn't really want to go inside.

"It's fine, Alex." Ben said, dropping his bag on the bed and turning to look at him. "And I did mean it when I said I was sorry for intruding."

Alex furrowed his brow. "Well, you had to," he pointed out reasonably. "You're supposed to be looking out for me."

Ben gave him a sharp look. Maybe he hadn't worded that right. "Yes, I'm looking out for you," he said, dropping the 'supposed'. "But I know _I_ get anxious when people stop by my place unannounced."

Alex tried to shrug it off. But Ben had hit very close to the truth. "It's not that it's you," he said uncomfortably. "It's that you're…"

"From MI6," Ben finished for him. "Look, I don't know the whole story behind this. One of the first things I asked about when I joined was you. But they said I didn't have a high enough clearance and I imagine there's a lot about your… arrangement that they're not too keen to tell anyone about."

Alex smiled at that. "Probably not," he agreed, thinking of how they had threatened to suspend Jack's visa and to send him to an orphanage or boarding school.

"So I can see how this would make you a little uncomfortable," Ben said.

Alex shrugged and looked away. "It's fine. At least it's you and not… just anyone." He knew first hand how most people reacted to his age. At the beginning, even Fox had treated it as a joke.

--

* * *

-- 

The next morning, Alex was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to eat a bowl of cereal and do his homework at the same time. In the month he had been back at school, he had mostly caught up on what he had missed, though he still had the suspicion that he was missing large pieces of information. Half of his schoolwork seemed to make little sense.

"That's because its school work, Alex," Tom Harris had said in disgust when he mentioned it. "It never makes sense."

Alex wasn't so sure.

"Hey, kid," Ben said, entering the kitchen. "You're up early." He looked around. The kitchen wasn't that big. The table was in the center of the room. The wall opposite the door had a pantry and the fridge. The side wall had a bench with the sink and cupboards. Ben moved over to that wall and started opening them at random.

"So are you," Alex said. He watched Ben for a second, then said, "Cups and bowls are in the third cupboard, coffee is in the corner one, and cereal is in the pantry."

Ben grinned at him over his shoulder. He found a cup and made some coffee. "I'm supposed to be up early. It comes with the job. What are you doing?"

"Homework," Alex said, pointing to his book. "I don't suppose you know how to convert mass to moles, do you?"

Ben hovered over his shoulder and looked at the book. He wrinkled his nose. "Isn't there a triangle-y formula thing for that?"

"Triangle-y formula thing?" Alex asked dubiously.

"Yeah. So you don't have to rearrange it? Or something?" Ben looked just as confused as Alex felt. "I dunno. I haven't done any of that stuff in ten years."

"Nice to know it has real world applications, then," Alex said wryly. "That makes learning it so much more interesting."

Ben shrugged and took a sip of coffee. "Heh, maybe if you want to be a chemist or a demolitions expert or something."

Alex sighed. "Right." He went back to his homework.

--

* * *

-- 

Alex arrived at school early that day because Ben dropped him off rather than biking to school like normal. But by the time Alex got there most of his friends knew that Miss Treat was back. He wasn't really surprised. She'd been incredibly popular last time she was here.

"Do you think we'll have her?" Tom asked wistfully once Alex had been filled in.

Alex reshouldered his bag and considered telling Tom that she was an MI6 agent. He decided against it, mostly because Tom was in awe of anything involved with MI6 and compounding that with his feelings for Miss Treat wouldn't be pretty, but also because he didn't know what the hell to tell Tom about it.

"Yeah, I think we will," he replied, smothering a laugh. Tom didn't notice.

"I hope so," Tom said. Then he brightened up. "Hey, do you want to come round to my place later on? Dad brought me a new video game. They had another fight." Tom's parents were going through a divorce. They were perfectly nice people, if they were apart, but something changed the instant they saw each other. He was always getting presents, or bribes as he called them, from both his parents.

Alex thought about it. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can," he said awkwardly. "But, if you want, you can come round to my place and bring it with you," he offered.

Tom looked curious. "Are you grounded?"

Alex shook his head. "Not really. Look, I'll explain it later, okay?"

--

* * *

-- 

In his bare, functional office on the seventh floor of the 'Royal and General' bank, Alan Blunt looked down at the file on his desk that chronicled the security arrangements for Alex Rider's residence. It was a good plan. It covered the basics and concentrated on the areas that were weakest, such as the school. He nodded. This would work.

Then he picked up the phone and dialed a number that was written down nowhere. He knew many such numbers.

"Yes?" a blank, unfriendly voice said.

"Tell him," he ordered. At the other end of the phone there was a grunt of affirmation, then a click, and the dial tone resumed. Alan Blunt replaced the phone in its cradle.

Now it was time to send another agent into the Black Hand.

--

* * *

-- 

The organization called Scorpia gained their name from the four areas of crime in which they dealt. Sabotague. Corruption. Intelligence. Assassination.

Their intelligence network was second to none. No government sanctioned intelligence agency could hope to match it. On every street corner, there was a man who would sell information to them in exchange for money to buy drugs or booze. In every office, there was a disgruntled employee who would betray company secrets. In every shop, there was a listener. In every pub.

Or so it seemed like. All this information was funneled to Scorpia, to deal with as it needed. And yet, this information network could betray them.

"Tell him," Alan Blunt had ordered from London. And somewhere in the world, in the hearing of one of these listeners, an MI6 agent under Scorpias eye told a friend that he would be returning to London to work with Alex Rider.

The information passed through Scorpia like a breeze, fueled by the name Rider and a day later was back in London, whispering in the ear of Yassen Gregorovich, just as it was meant to.

"Alex Rider," Yassen Gregorovich murmured softly. "What are you up to now?" His dark eyes scanned the room in front of him. The Black Hand was moving slowly, but was secure. He had already eliminated the agent MI6 had had in place. There were no others.

The first shipment would not arrive for weeks yet. There was time, perhaps, to find Alex Rider and see. Yes. He nodded to himself slowly. There was time to find Alex Rider and see why Scorpia had sent the name whispering into his ear.

--

* * *

-- 

When Alex left school that afternoon, Ben was standing at the gate, arms folded, tapping his fingers nervously against his arm and scanning the streets constantly.

"Good, Alex," he said obvious relief in his voice. "There you are. Get in the car."

Alex didn't question. It didn't seem like the right time. He got in the car. But once Ben slid in beside him, he asked urgently. "What's going on? Is everything alright?"

"There's been a sighting of Gregorovich," Ben said grimly.

--

* * *

--

Thanks for reading! Please tell me what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Author's notes: Thank you to the reviewer who informed me that The Black Hand was an actual gang. I didn't know that. This group does not have any connection to them and any and all resemblances are pure coincidence. Thanks.

I also think that I need to give credit to Amitai this chapter. It wasn't intentional, but I think her Eagle has gotten loose. I found him wandering around in my story and haven't managed to evict him yet. I'll have to refrain from reading her fics while I'm writing this, incase he followed me home or something. :D

_--_

* * *

--

"_There's been a sighting of Gregorovich," Ben said grimly._

"What?" Alex said with a yelp. "Where?"

Ben started the car and pulled out of the parking space. "Near your house. So we're going to my place. It's not too far from here, but hopefully it should be safe. Jack's packed a bag for you. You wont be able to go to school anymore, sorry." He looked apologetic.

Alex sighed. He was going to get behind again. "That's okay. It's not your fault."

"Yeah," Ben said quietly. "But I'm just grateful it was just a sighting. That's why we're moving so quickly. We didn't want to wait for an actual attack." He ran a hand through his hair. "I thought we'd have more time than this. I mean, he's been out there, all along. Why decide to attack now?" He shook his head. "Sorry, Alex. Don't listen to me."

"No, it's a good point," Alex said. He'd been thinking the same thing. After all, Yassen had been out there ever since Eagle Strike failed. Why would he pick now, just as Alex had been given protection, to come after him?

"Yeah, well, good point or not, it doesn't really help us." He brightened. "And speaking of help, we're getting some."

"Given the situation, I guess you're not talking about a maid and a chef, right?" Alex said wryly.

Ben's eyes sparkled with glee. "Not quite, but you're more than welcome to try treating them like it." He laughed. "No, it's an SAS team. Sent to protect a high ranking MI6 member under a death threat."

Alex closed his eyes and imagined the worst thing that he could think of. He opened them and looked at Ben. "Let me guess, it's your old unit, right?"

Ben looked stunned and turned to look at him. "How did you know?"

"Road!" Alex said, quite calmly for the circumstances. Ben turned back to the road and narrowly avoided tailgating the car in front of them as it slowed to turn. "And what do you mean, high ranking? Do they think it's you?"

Ben laughed, but looked slightly shocked. "No. Didn't you know? You pretty much outrank everyone short of Jones and Blunt."

Alex shook his head. "How can I? I'm not even, technically, a member of MI6."

"Well, no," Ben agreed. "You're not. But you have to have a ranking. It's the bureaucracy, you see. Reports have to be filed even if no one can read them. Top secret and all that. So, according to MI6 records, your uncle didn't actually die. He's still active and quite successful, as I hear it, although people call him Alex now." He spared a quick smile at Alex. "He was their best agent. And he was tipped to replace Jones or Blunt when they retired. So, technically, his ranking is your ranking."

Alex shook his head again and tried to come up with words for it. "That's … bizarre," he said finally. "Utterly bizarre."

Ben nodded ruefully. "I agree. But that's the way it is." He pulled over. "And here we are. The humble little flat that I call home and we're going to try and squish seven people into this week."

Alex winced at the reminder. "Oh, joy."

"Oh, and," Ben looked a little nervous. "they don't know, yet, exactly who we are. I mean, they were briefed but only in generic terms. MI6 agent and so forth."

Alex closed his eyes and tried to think of a way this could get worse. "And let me guess. You weren't able to tell them that you transferred to MI6."

He opened his eyes. Ben looked slightly freaked out. "Okay, quit it with the psychic thing. Seriously. And tell me who's been leaking my plans to you," he said.

Alex smiled sardonically.

--

* * *

--

Ben grinned as he opened the door. "Honey, we're home!" he called cheerfully.

Jack was there so quickly that she must have been waiting for them. "Alex," she said with relief. "You're all right."

"See," Ben said to her. "I said he'd be okay, didn't I? We're not going to let anything happen to him."

"You also said," Jack put in coldly. "That it was highly unlikely that anything would happen _at all_."

Ben winced. "Okay, you've got me there. How about we step inside, now? I have to brief K-unit. They'll get grumpy if I keep them waiting."

Alex took a moment to look around. The flat, as Ben had said, was humble. The wallpaper was faded and the carpet was a little threadbare, but it was clean and not too cramped. The front door led directly into a hallway. On his right he saw a kitchen, and they all turned left into the living room.

Seated, in various degrees of non-relaxation, were four people. Three of them Alex knew. Wolf, Snake and Eagle. The other members of the unit that Alex had trained with. The fourth man was a stranger to Alex, but he guessed that he was Fox's replacement in the unit.

As they entered, all four pairs of eyes snapped over to them. Three of them widened in shock. The fourth frowned.

"Cub? Fox?" Snake asked, looking at one then the other in confusion.

Fox held up a hand to stall questions. "You've been briefed, right? MI6 agent under death threat. That's Alex. Cub, I mean." He pushed Alex forward. Alex frowned at him. "I'm the MI6 agent responsible for his security. So you all answer to me, got it?"

They nodded. That was simple enough. Wolf spoke up. "Who's she?"

Fox looked put out by the question. It was Alex who answered. "My guardian." It wasn't strictly the truth, but it was close enough. He wasn't going to get into the complications of his situation with MI6.

But it was too much for the new guy. He stood up. "So you're trying to tell us, that a kid young enough to still need a guardian is the 'high ranking MI6 agent' that we were sent to protect?" he asked skeptically. "What kind of joke is this?"

"Sit down, Hawk," Wolf growled. With the tone of voice he used, Alex wasn't surprised when the guy, Hawk, sat down. Wolf was the undisputed leader of the unit.

"You guys know about this?" Hawk asked, a tad more reasonably. He looked at the others.

Eagle nodded. "We've worked with him a few times." He turned to Fox. "I guess that's why we're the ones here?"

"Well," Fox said. "Yes and no. You're here because I asked for you. They didn't say no because you already know about him." He shrugged. "It was a pain in the ass trying to arrange security while they kept telling me I couldn't let anyone know that Alex worked for us. Or that he existed at all."

"And it has nothing at all to do with the fact that we're your team?" Snake asked wryly.

Fox grinned. "Well, maybe. I couldn't just tell you I transferred to MI6. It's frowned upon."

"I thought it was suspicious," Eagle said. "After all your yakking about wanting to be SAS and then you leave inside of a year?" He rolled his eyes.

Hawk tried to get the briefing back on track. "So what are we doing for security?"

Fox frowned. "Yes, well. There's been a change in plans, which is why we're _here_. Gregorovich was spotted nearby, so Alex was moved with all possible speed. That means; security is now watching this place, watching Alex and making sure Gregorovich doesn't get him."

Snake leaned forward in interest. "What does Gregorovich want with Cub? Are we watching out for Scorpia, or just Gregorovich?"

Fox frowned again. "Just Gregorovich at this stage. As for what he wants… well, that's undetermined."

"Undetermined?" Eagle said in disbelief. "So you don't know if he's aiming to kill or aiming to capture or, hell, just sit down over tea and biscuits and have a little chat?"

"It's unlikely to be the third one," Fox said dryly. "We can rule that one out."

"Yes," Alex agreed. "He drinks coffee not tea." They looked at him, not quite sure if he was joking. Alex shrugged.

--

* * *

--

Dark was approaching when Tulip Jones made an unscheduled stop at Alan Blunt's office. She was unsurprised to find him still there, despite the hour. Neither of them left before everything was complete. She sat opposite him. He looked up from his work and set his pen down.

"When are you going to talk to Alex?" Mrs. Jones asked. Too much time had passed since they had decided to bring him in. The delay made her anxious. Time was of the essence.

Alan Blunt met her eyes squarely. They were emotionless and grey behind his glasses. "I already have. He was more than happy to provide a distraction."

"Really," Mrs. Jones said flatly. Her expression was totally empty, yet her anger was visible. "Why wasn't I there?"

Blunt looked at her coolly. "You have more than enough work at the moment. It was not important enough to bother you with."

Mrs. Jones pressed her lips tightly together. They went white. "I see." She stood calmly, smoothed her skirt down, and left.

--

* * *

--

Alex was flicking through his school books that evening at the table when Eagle snuck up behind him. Alex had already decided that Eagle was the most irritating member of K-unit. Granted, he didn't have a lot of competition, given that Wolf would rather gnaw his arm off than start a conversation, Hawk had been business-like ever since the security arrangements had been made and Snake seemed to prefer quiet solitude, but he was still fairly annoying.

"Were you serious? About him wanting to have a chat?" Eagle asked. Alex didn't jump, because he had been aware that someone was behind him.

"Aren't you supposed to be on duty?" Alex shot back without turning around.

"No," Eagle replied, sliding into the seat opposite him. "Doesn't he want to kill you?"

Alex looked at him. He shrugged. "Well, even if he did come here wanting a chat, he'd end up wanting to kill me."

"I wouldn't call your company that bad," Eagle said, startled. "You could do with a bit more, y'know, enthusiasm, but I suppose its understandable given the circumstance." He paused a beat. "Why?"

Alex shrugged, seeing that Eagle really wasn't about to go away. "I'd tell him the truth. And then he'd probably be angry."

"Truth about what?" Eagle asked quickly, seizing this new information.

"I'm not sure I'm allowed to tell you."

Eagle looked put out. "And yet you'll tell the guy who'll try and kill you about it?"

Alex shrugged.

"How well do you know him, anyway?" Eagle continued, trying a new tack when it became obvious that Alex wasn't going to answer. "Because I was expecting 'oh, yeah, I saw him when he was trying to shoot me' not 'he drinks coffee not tea'."

Alex glared at Eagle simply for bringing up the thing that he had been working very hard to avoid thinking about. He didn't want to talk about Yassen. Simply because he didn't know what he would say. What was there to say? He killed my uncle. He saved my life. He idolized my father. I wanted to kill him. Now…

Did he want to kill Yassen now? Not really. He didn't want to kill anyone. But that didn't mean he had been sad at the thought that the assassin was dead. Oh, he had wished that Yassen was there to give less cryptic clues, to give answers, but he hadn't regretted his death.

(Maybe he had wished that the last thing the man had done wasn't try to save his life. Because that had made him feel guilty. Almost.)

"We met," he said distantly, at last. "A few times."

Eagle didn't look happy with that answer, but Alex couldn't have cared less. He wasn't going to answer anymore questions. Resolutely, he turned back to his books and ignored the other man.

--

* * *

--

Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'm glad everyone is enjoying this so far. If you have any comments or suggestions or queries about this fic, please leave a review or send a message to me and I'll do my best to answer it.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Author's notes: You know, I started this fic with the vague idea to bring back Yassen and have K-unit protect Alex. That's all well and good, but now I've started to get carried away with the plot.

--

* * *

--

Yassen Gregorovich had returned to Scorpia only after he had recovered to full health. Scorpia was not tolerant of weakness. Yet, he had detected a note of coldness from them. Scorpia was also not tolerant of failure. At the time he had ignored it. One failure could be overcome.

Yet… it had made him uneasy. And that feeling had proved well founded. He had been given jobs below his capabilities. Jobs like the Black Hand. Petty drug dealers and little more. It was enough for him to realize that Scorpia was displeased with him. More than should be expected.

And he had heard nothing of Alex Rider. That had made him most uneasy of all.

The boy was curious. Yassen had been certain he would find Scorpia.

Yet… he hadn't.

Or if he had, someone was keeping them apart.

And then Alex had turned up, in the grip of MI6. They did not have him detained because he was attending school. The security, though far greater than a normal school, was lax. A boy as ingenuous as Alex could have easily escaped from there. He had not escaped. So he was there willingly.

Yet they were guarding him. From who? Scorpia? He had heard nothing from Scorpia concerning Alex Rider. Perhaps he was being deliberately kept uninformed. It was possible. Likely even. But he did not like it.

It was, Yassen decided, time to find out. And Alex Rider would be just the person to tell him

--

* * *

--

Ben Daniels was incredibly surprised when he was recalled to MI6 the next day. He hadn't expected another check up on Alex's security. Generally they didn't happen. He needed to be there to react to threats as they happened, not in MI6 HQ writing reports.

But it wasn't a check-up. He didn't see Blunt, who seemed to be in charge of the assignment. Instead he saw Tulip Jones.

Mrs. Jones lay a file down on the table in front of her. "You have been given medical permission to return to active duty, correct?"

Ben blinked. In organizations that valued secrets as much as MI6, there were often times when the left hand didn't know what the right hand was doing. However, he had assumed that given the chain of command, Alan Blunt and Tulip Jones were merely fingers on the same hand.

"Err," he stammered, not quite sure how to broach the subject. "Mr. Blunt has already given me an assignment."

She looked at him with mild surprise. "Has he indeed?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said respectfully. "You, er, you didn't know?"

She tapped her fingers in on the file. "No. I was uninformed. However…" she looked at him piercingly. "You are working with Alex Rider, are you not?" It was the only case in which Blunt had not consulted her.

He blinked in surprise. "Yes, ma'am. I am."

She nodded, but her gaze was distant. "Alan Blunt and I do not see eye to eye on the use of Alex Rider. I was certain that he would refuse this mission. He has stated that he would not work for us again. But I was not there when he was asked and Alan Blunt can be very persuasive." She almost seemed to be talking to herself.

Ben blinked in mild confusion. "Yes, ma'am?"

She snapped her gaze back to him, business-like once more. "As much as Alex Rider is priority, this assignment is connected. In fact, once this is completed so is Alex's mission. As such, your current responsibilities can be taken over by Donna Treat and the SAS team that you requested."

Ben saw that this wasn't really a request. He was used to taking orders, but it still left him uneasy, particularly given the new information that he was assimilating. "Yes, Mrs. Jones."

"Good. Now, the Black Hand is a London based gang that we have been watching for quite some time. At first, they were of little concern. Then we suspect that they began to make overseas connections. They grew. They became dangerous. They are one of the foremost suppliers of drugs onto the streets of England. However, we recently had an agent in place with them. He was the one who identified Yassen Gregorovich. Before he was discovered, he found information that the Black Hand were not just importing cocaine or heroin, they were planning to start supplying a new, unknown drug that would give them the edge over their competitors, most notably the Kensington Sharks. However, he could not find more information than that."

"You want me to find out more?" Ben asked. "Gregorovich will be expecting another agent."

Mrs. Jones frowned at him, ever so slightly, as though he had said something very silly. "That is why we have arranged for Alex to become visible to him. Gregorovich will be paying less attention to the Black Hand, allowing you to slip in. As long as you are very careful."

That was when Ben understood. He very nearly did not believe it. They were using Alex as bait for Gregorovich. That was why Gregorovich had chosen now to come after Alex. And Mrs. Jones thought that Alex had agreed to it. But Blunt had lied. Set it all up, placing Alex in danger without informing either of them of it.

"Yes, ma'am," he said quietly. As soon as the Black Hand was gone, Gregorovich would be gone and it would all be over. Hopefully.

--

* * *

--

That day, Donna Treat came around. As Alex had been withdrawn from school, her disguise as his teacher was redundant. Alex was glad that she had appeared. Jack had gone out earlier and K-unit was beginning to get on his nerves. Their constant _alertness_ was draining his energy and he really didn't have anything to do.

"Do you always go undercover as a teacher?" Alex asked as she gave him a stack of school work. At least he wouldn't get too far behind, he supposed wryly.

She smiled at him. "We all have our specialties. The easiest way for cover to get blown is by not knowing what you're doing. I got my teaching degree before I joined MI6."

Alex thought about it. It made sense. "You were going to be a teacher?" he asked with interest. It seemed an odd move, from teacher to covert operations agent.

Miss Treat shrugged. "Not really. I didn't have any idea what I wanted to do when I left high school. So I just got a degree in the first thing that took my interest. I was never really serious about it. But," she said warningly. "I did come here to teach you this stuff and serious or not, that's what I'm going to do."

Alex grinned at her. "Thank you. Seriously," he said at her surprised look. "I don't want to get behind and this stuff is hard to learn on your own."

--

* * *

--

Alex and Miss Treat were taking a break for lunch when Ben came back. To Alex, he looked disturbed and slightly angry.

"Is something wrong?" Alex asked gingerly. He really didn't want to know if Fox had a temper.

Ben looked at him and blinked, as though he was surprised to find them there. "Alex, Donna." He sighed. "No, there's nothing wrong," he said reassuringly. "Just MI6…" he trailed off.

Miss Treat frowned. "Did they have some suggestions about the security?" Alex looked at her startled. He had nearly forgotten that she was also in charge of arranging his security and wasn't just another pair of eyes watching his every move.

Ben ran a hand through his hair. "No. No," he repeated then sighed. "They're pulling me off security. They're sending me in after Gregorovich instead."

"Where are you going?" Alex asked curiously.

Fox seemed disturbed by the question. "I don't think I should tell you that," he said. He frowned.

"What, you think I'm going to go and look for the guy that wants to kill me?" Alex asked. He said it as a joke but Ben just looked at him.

"I think that's exactly what you'll do."

--

* * *

--

"I want you to keep an eye on him while I'm gone," Ben said to the SAS team. They were gathered together in the living room while Alex was going over his school work with Miss Treat. He checked that the door was closed. "An extra careful eye, I mean," he added hastily. "He doesn't trust you and I'm fairly sure that he wont be content to sit here hiding for much longer."

Eagle looked injured. "What do you mean, he doesn't trust us? We've been nothing but nice to him since we got here."

"He must realize that we are here for his safety," Snake said reasonably.

"He does. It's probably nothing personal, but, well," Fox hesitated unsure how to continue. "I get the impression that he doesn't really trust anyone. And, I don't know much about it, but there was an incident with the Australian SAS recently that may have soured his impression of us military types."

Eagle whistled lowly. "Given the impression that Wolf here gave him, that must have been some incident." Wolf glared at him.

"We'll watch him," Snake reassured him. "That's why we're here."

--

* * *

--

However, as Ben was talking to K-unit, Alex was putting a plan into action. Begging leave from Miss Treat for a toilet break, he had left her watchful eyes and, carefully closing the door behind him, had located Ben's bag. Like normal, it was hanging off the coat stand just inside the front door.

He knew that Ben was unlikely to have left any information inside it, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity. He didn't know how long Ben would be talking to the SAS team, but Miss Treat would miss him before long and as soon as she looked out the kitchen door, she would see him.

Alex was lucky that Ben had closed the living room door, so as not to be overheard by Alex while they were discussing him. It meant that they didn't see him as he made his way towards the bag. It wasn't far, but he had to move slowly, as the floor had more creaks than should be expected. Any one of those loose boards would alert the SAS team to his presence. He felt almost silly sneaking around in such a normal house. There was none of the strange architecture of Herod Sayles' house or of Point Blanc.

Once he reached the stand he carefully opened the clasp on Ben's bag and looked inside. He grinned. There was an entire file in there.

Alex pulled it out. It was labeled _Black Hand, The_. He skimmed through the first couple of pages, taking note of key words. One, repeated over and over again, was the Thames. There was also a few warehouse numbers. He memorized them.

The buzz of conversation from the living room decreased. Startled, Alex hurriedly stuffed the file back in the bag and closed the clasp. He made it back to the kitchen just as the living room door opened.

--

* * *

--

Yassen Gregorovich was preoccupied. It was not a state recommended for his profession. He knew that. Any lapse in judgment could prove fatal. A second of distraction could cause his death.

But he was bothered. He had visited Chelsea, intending to find Alex Rider and had found only an empty house. His plans to find information had been derailed. He was not happy.

Yassen swept his eyes over the man in front of him. They were meeting in a empty alley in a disused part of town. London had many such alleys. He knew MI6 would be desperate to get a new agent into The Black Hand after he had discovered the last one. Since then, there had been no new members joining the gang. It would be too easy for MI6 to slip a man in that way.

However, this man had been in prison. He had only just been released. Records could be faked, Yassen knew, but one of the men in the gang was insistent that this man had been his cellmate while he had been in, nearly three months ago. It was likely to be the truth. They didn't have the courage to lie to him. Not anymore.

The man had a stocky build and was well muscled. He looked like he could go a few rounds and win most of them. He had a blunt face and red hair. Yassen searched his memory. He had never seen that face before. He did not forget faces.

"What were you in for?" he asked laconically.

The man blinked, seeming surprised at the question. Given his size, Yassen doubted that he got asked that question very often. "Murder."

Murder. How… quaint. "And they caught you?" he asked scornfully.

Ben grinned nastily. "Only once."

--

* * *

--

As always, enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Author's notes: Don't you hate it when the characters won't do what you want? These guys are begining to give me problems. Yassen's being the silent assassin and not giving me anything to work with, Ben wants more screen time, Eagle is hogging the show, Snake is being all pensive and quiet, Hawk keeps saying 'I'm going for a walk and I may be some time' and Wolf is in a corner somewhere sulking. I don't know why. I guess he didn't want to be in this after I called him a mother hen.

I'm also a proud member of 'Everything I know about London, I learned from Google Maps', so please forgive any inaccuracies about the Thames river and things. But if there are any point them out and I'll see if I can think of a way to fix them. Most of the information on heroin and drug trafficking came from Wikipedia. I'm very happy to confess that I know next to nothing about either of those topics.

--

* * *

--

"So, Fox said you had a run in with the Australian SAS," Eagle said without preamble, sitting down on the couch beside Alex. Ever since Ben had left, the SAS team had stepped up the security. There always seemed to be two or three of them around and Alex beginning to find it irritating. Currently both Eagle and Snake were in the living room with him and he could hear Wolf prowling around the house. Hawk was somewhere outside.

Alex heaved a sigh and glared at him. "Do you mind?" he demanded. "I'm trying to read."

Eagle settled himself more comfortably on the sofa. "Not at all," he said. "So what happened?" Over by the window, Snake's lips quirked into a smile.

Alex gritted his teeth. "Nothing," he said curtly, hoping Eagle would go away. He should have known better.

"Uhuh. I don't believe that. What'd they do? Beat you up? Or shoot you?" Eagle sounded like he could keep guessing for a long time, his suggestions getting more ludicrous each time.

"Shot at, more like," Alex corrected, giving up. He didn't put his book down, but he did turn to face Eagle.

"With what?" Snake asked quietly. Alex glanced at him, but he was still looking out the window.

"Machine guns, missiles. Oh, and there were landmines," Alex said. They had been directed not to hit him, but he hadn't known that at the time.

Eagles eyes widened. Whatever he had been expecting that wasn't it. "That's pretty full on. What on earth for?"

Alex shrugged. "A test," he said bitterly. They had cajoled and manipulated him into working for them with the promise of meeting one of his father's friends, then they had tested him by throwing him into what had appeared to be a full scale weapons practice.

"That's rather extreme," Snake said. Alex was surprised to hear sympathy in his voice. K-unit had probably operated under the same conditions, only theirs wouldn't have been harmless.

Alex shrugged again. "They were tracking me. None of them would have hit. Even the mines were remote controlled."

"But you didn't know that," Snake said perceptively. Alex shifted uncomfortably. Couldn't they just let it go?

"Yeah, well." He couldn't think of anything to reply to that. He wished they'd talk about something else.

Eagle seemed to pick up on his unspoken wish. Or maybe he just had more questions that he wanted to ask. "So how many of these assignments have you been on, anyway? There was Point Blanc and obviously one in Australia, but how many others?"

"Err," Alex stalled. How many actually counted as MI6 assignments? Herod Sayle, certainly, and Point Blanc. Wimbledon had been because of Crawley, but not directly MI6 and the CIA had been the ones to take him to Skeleton Key. They hadn't been involved with Eagle Strike, though and he had found Scorpia on his own, even if he had ended up working for MI6. ArchAngel had been a mixture of himself and the CIA, and the ASIS had been the ones to send him through the Snakehead.

"He can't answer that, Eagle," Snake answered for him. "That's classified information. We aren't privy to it."

Eagle's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Actually, as part of his security detail, we have the right to know anything that may affect our ability to protect him. So, we can be told just about anything."

"That doesn't mean I'm going to tell you," Alex said, miffed that Eagle had implied he would tell them everything.

"Oh, Alex, don't be cruel," Eagle said earnestly. "We're only doing this to help you."

"Oh, and I suppose that being your amusement is for my own good, is it?" Alex pointed out dryly.

"Well," came a voice from the doorway. "You probably don't want to know what he gets up to when he's bored." Alex craned his neck to see Wolf entering the room. "House is clear," he told the other two SAS members.

"See, Wolf agrees," Eagle said triumphantly. "Now you have to tell us."

--

* * *

--

Ben spent much of his time for the first few days talking to the rest of the men under the guise of learning the ropes. He learnt nothing that hadn't been part of his briefing. Either the people he was talking to knew nothing, or Gregorovich had them scared into silence.

It wasn't until the first shipment of drugs came in, that Ben had his first real breakthrough. The shipment had come in by boat. At first glance, it was merely a large shipment of Unwin Toys. Which was exactly what it was designed to look like.

It wasn't until the crates of toys were moved into the centre warehouse that the appearance began to break down. As soon as the doors of the warehouse were shut, men, moving with a sureity that spoke of many repetitions of the same job, pulled the crates apart with crowbars and removed the boxes that contained the individually packaged toys.

These boxes were then handed out to four designated 'leaders' who dispersed them to the men for opening.

"Just pull them apart," Mike, one of the leaders, advised Ben. "Sometimes they're inside the toys, sometimes they're just inside the boxes. Just don't miss any."

Ben nodded and took the boxes he was given. Like the other men, he began to pull them apart. It wasn't until he found the first bag that he realized what they were looking for. It was a small bag, perhaps a hundred grams of brownish powder. Heroin.

Infact, he realized, it was pure heroin. Later on, it would be diluted, or cut, to only 5 to 10 percent strength before it was sold on the street. Risking a look around the warehouse, he saw hundreds of bags being unearthed. There was over a million pounds worth of drugs in this shipment alone.

He shook his head and went back to pulling the toys apart. This wasn't why he was here. Certainly, he would inform MI6 about it, but his primary mission remained to gather intelligence about the new shipment of unidentified drugs.

He had found another several bags when something caused him to stop. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the 'leaders' casually slip a bag, not into the pile, but into his pocket. And he wasn't the only one who had seen it.

Gregorovich was there almost immediately, sliding fluidly across the floor like a cat.

"Turn out your pockets," he ordered. The coldness in his voice removed most of the resemblance to a school teacher with a naughty pupil. The gun in his hand destroyed the rest.

Trembling, the man obeyed. When faced with Gregorovich there was little other option. He removed four packets of heroin from his pockets. Ben squashed the urge to whistle. Four packets of pure heroin would get him anything up to seven hundred thousand pounds.

"That's all of it, I swear," the man said hoarsely. "I won't do it again!"

"No, you won't," Gregorovich agreed, and shot him. For a millisecond, all work in the warehouse ceased, then resumed with extra vigour.

Gregorovich looked away from the body. Ben realized he was staring a second too late; Gregorovich looked directly at him. He forced himself not to gulp, not to betray any iota of nervousness, even though he felt that Gregorovich must know, surely, that he was an MI6 agent.

But Gregorovich just inclined his head and holstered his gun. "Take care of the body," he ordered. And that was how Ben found himself promoted.

--

* * *

--

"So, Cub," Wolf said. "Been meaning to ask. What weapons did they give you?"

Alex looked at him, a tad confused. "Nothing."

"They didn't give you a gun?" Snake looked at him with polite disbelief.

"No. They never give me guns. I guess they thought that you guys would be enough protection and that I wouldn't need one." Alex didn't add that he probably wouldn't have taken it anyway. He would never be able to shoot anyone in cold blood. Scorpia had proven that.

"I guess they were worried you'd get carried away," Eagle joked. "Hold a gun to someone's head and all that."

"I've never held a gun to anyone's head," Alex said defensively. He thought about that statement and amended it, "and pulled the trigger."

"Whose head did you hold a gun to, then?" Eagle asked curiously.

"Yassen Gregorovich."

"We've met a few times, indeed." Eagle snorted. "How on earth did you manage to get close enough to him to manage _that_?"

Alex thought about it. The boat in the south of France, the henchman, the gun on the table. All that was luck. And Yassen apparently asleep in the other room... "He let me. He knew I was there and he let me walk up to him and hold a gun to his head because he knew I'd never be able to pull the trigger."

Eagle whistled. "That takes balls. I don't know about you, but I get all jittery when someone holds a gun on me, no matter who it is." He paused. "And he _didn't_ kill you for it?"

Alex didn't bother mentioning the bull fight. "No."

--

* * *

--

So this chapter is a little shorter than the others, but it was hard to write, so it was either a shorter chapter or wait another week for it. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Please tell me what you think (even if you didn't – actually, especially if you didn't).


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Author's notes: I don't pretend to be a medical expert but I think that Alex being shot and then a week later being thrown into another adventure then going straight into the Snakehead after _that_ stretches medical credibility, even with the suspension of disbelief required for such a story. That could just be me, though.

Okay, so I wanted to get this finished before summer holidays are over and I have to go back to school. It doesn't look like that's going to be possible, but I'm going to try and move the plot along a bit. So here you go, enjoy!

--

* * *

--

Later that night, when Alex was asleep (or, at least, in his room; they hadn't checked to see if he was asleep.), K-unit met up in the living room after checking that the house was secure.

"We could get his file," Snake suggested. "Then you won't have to bug him with questions all the time." He was looking at Eagle as he spoke.

Wolf shook his head. "Tried that. They won't let the file out of the building, and we don't exactly have time to go over there and read it."

"We could," Eagle said brightly. "If we took him with us. It'd be a fun day out for the whole family."

Wolf looked at him. "You want him to ask for your file while we're there?"

Eagle looked uncertain. "They'd let him, wouldn't they?"

Snake nodded. "Yes. It's not nearly as fun to be on the other side of that question, is it?"

"It's not that, exactly," Eagle hesitated. "I don't know, actually. There's nothing really bad in there, I think. Maybe the psych evaluations. Some of the covert Iraq stuff. I don't know," he repeated.

"You just wouldn't want him to see it," Snake summarized quietly.

"Well, no," Eagle admitted. "The thought of anyone reading my file is disturbing. Actually, having my entire life in a file is disturbing. People reading it is creepy."

"Yet you wouldn't mind reading his?" Snake asked pointedly.

Eagle scowled at him. "That's your equivalent to jumping up and down screaming 'hypocrite!' isn't it?"

--

* * *

--

"Look, Manny," Mike said into his cell phone, "I can't talk right now. I'll meet you at the bar later, okay?" He paused for a second. "Yeah, Alton pub."

Ben nearby, overheard the conversation. There was absolutely nothing that should have attracted his attention about it. It was devoid of all details of dastardly plots, or information that Ben had been searching for. Except Mike was twitching, nervously scanning the room, and looking over his shoulder as though he had been plotting to murder the queen.

Which was_ exactly_ the wrong way to keep a seemingly unsuspicious phone call unsuspicious.

So, later that evening, when he had been dismissed from the warehouse, Ben found his way to Alton pub. It was a semi-small place, with a bar along one side wall and a pool table nearly smack bang in the middle of the room. He was there for a while, nursing a beer at the bar, watching some guys play a bad game of pool, before Mike walked in. He made his way to the bar, ordered a beer, and while he was waiting for it, semi-casually scanned the room.

Ben waited, hoping that he wouldn't be spotted. Then Mike's eyes met his over the crowded bar. Even from across the room, Ben could see Mike tense noticeably. Thinking quickly, he casually raised his glass of beer in a friendly salute of acknowledgement. Mike relaxed and, when it was poured, raised his own glass in return.

Ben grinned, a 'hey, out of all the pubs in town, what are the chances?' grin, and turned back to watching the game of pool. It was still horrible. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Mike took his beer and made his way to the back of the pub, to sit at a table with another man. Possibly Manny, Ben thought.

From his position at the bar, it would be impossible for him to hear them talking. The low chatter of people talking throughout the room made it impossible to make out a single conversation. But luckily for him, Mike and Manny had taken a table close to the pool game.

Ben made his way to the game, arriving just as one player managed to sink the black eight. "How's it going, fellas?" he asked companionably.

"Not too bad," one said, rather optimistically in Ben's opinion. "Want a game?"

"That'd be great," Ben said with a grin, pulling out the triangle and fishing the balls out of the pockets. "You want to break?" The man nodded and Ben moved away from the table, conveniently placing himself closer to Mike.

"… guy's a bloody psycho," he heard Mike say. "Killed Jimmy the other day. He was thieving, but still…"

Manny made a grunt of agreement. "Didn't deserve that."

"Look," Mike said. "I know that us Hands and the Sharks haven't ever got along…" Ben's ears perked at the mention of the Sharks. Kensington Sharks was the main rival gang of the Black Hand. Was this 'Manny' a Shark?

The click of the breaking shot of the pool game obscured the next few words. The man he was playing grimaced as none of the balls went into the pockets. Ben could see four possible shots that he could make. He took the hardest and wasn't surprised when he missed.

"… not skag, something else." Mike was saying behind him. "Some new drug. Old Johnston calls it cat. He says we'll have total control over it. That's why he went and found Gregorovich."

"When's it coming in?" Ben could almost hear the greed in Manny's voice.

"Don't know," Mike said. "It's hush hush. Stevens got shot just for asking."

The man Ben was playing made his shot. He sunk the three and turned to make another shot. It went wild and hit a set that hadn't broken apart during the break. The sound meant that Ben didn't hear the next few lines of the conversation.

Rapidly, he sunk three in a row, then purposefully missed, turning his attention back to the conversation behind him.

"So you'll do it?" Mike was asking. Ben cursed in his head. What had he missed?

Manny grunted an affirmative. "How many will jump ship?" he asked.

"Most of the newbies. A couple of the old guard. Most of them will stick by Johnston, but nobody has any loyalty to Gregorovich," Mike answered. "So you'll do it?" he asked again, a tad nervously.

Manny grunted again. "Half the cat. We'll tag Gregorovich and you and yours will be home safe inside the Sharks."

There was a rustle and a thunk, as though Manny had just drained his beer and set the glass down hard. "Tell us the time. We'll be waiting. And if this is a cross…" He left the threat hanging.

"It ain't, Manny, I swear it," Mike said. Manny got up and left. Ben went on playing the game of pool, purposefully missing shots, playing down to the level of his opponent, and was still there when Mike left about ten minutes later.

--

* * *

--

Alex spent the next day going over school work with Miss Treat, again. Jack, frustrated with the situation and not being under house-arrest like Alex, went again. She was gone all day but when she came back that evening, she looked pale and drawn.

"Are you okay?" Alex asked anxiously. He'd long since finished his schoolwork for the day and was mindlessly watching some reality TV show in the living room. The show wasn't that interesting but the expressions on the faces of Snake and Wolf whenever they looked at it kept him from changing the channel. They looked so disgusted.

She smiled tiredly at him, running a hand through her red hair. "I'm okay. Just got a bit of a headache. You don't know if there's any painkillers in this place, do you?"

There probably was, but Alex didn't know where. "I think I've got my first aid kit," he said. "Take a seat. I'll go get it."

Jack sunk gratefully into the sofa. Alex disappeared into his room and came back almost immediately with it.

"Here," he said, handing her the packet of Tylenol. He threw the rest of the first aid kit onto the coffee table. Snake poked it with interest, eyes scanning the contents.

"Nice kit you've got here," he approved. Then he frowned and plucked a bottle from the kit. "Where'd you get this, Cub? This is prescription only."

"What?" Alex looked at the bottle with a frown. "Oh, those must have been from when I got shot. I never used them. I guess they just got put in there with all the other stuff."

"When'd you get shot?" Wolf asked aggressively. "Why'd we never hear about this?" He glared at them all as if they had purposefully been keeping it from him.

"It was, I dunno, two months ago? It's not important anymore." He shrugged. He frowned, thinking about it. "I thought you did know. You sent me a card."

"For appendicitis," Wolf pointed out. "Which is completely different to having been _shot_."

"Not important anymore, he says," Snake repeated with a shake of his head. "Cub, an injury like that could severely affect your ability to perform. We need to know about things like that."

Alex shrugged, uncomfortable with the attention. "It hasn't. I've been fine with it."

Snake blinked at that. "You've been on missions since?"

"Well, yeah," Alex said puzzled. "I've been on two since. Look, I think you guys are over reacting. Ben was shot too and I don't see you guys harassing _him_."

"Where'd you get shot?" Wolf interrupted gruffly.

"It was a sniper out front of the MI6 building," Alex replied, confused.

"No," Wolf frowned at him. "I meant, where'd you get hit? Arm? Leg?"

"Oh," Alex said, embarrassed at having misunderstood. "Yeah, er, in the chest."

Snake looked at him for a long time. "Cub, we really need to work on your definition of what's important. For the record, being shot in the chest is _important_."

--

* * *

--

Ben knew he had been lucky so far. He also knew that to rely on luck alone was a surefire way to get killed because luck would, and did, run out.

His ran out that evening.

Desperate to find more information on the shipment of 'cat' before time ran out, he'd chanced to break into Gregorovich's office while the man was occupied downstairs with the outgoing drugs. He'd thought that in the chaotic atmosphere of the warehouse, with the boxes being moved to and fro, the trucks being loaded outside and men scurrying everywhere in a hurry that he would not be missed. That it would be impossible to know if he was within the crowd or not.

But Yassen Gregorovich missed very little.

Ben had searched the office thoroughly. There was nothing there. He had expected coded information or seemingly irrelevant files. What he found was nothing. There was no computer. The drawers were empty. The cabinet had nothing. There were no scraps of paper floating around. The empty pad of paper had no depressions that he could glean information from.

Dejected, he turned back to the door that lead down a staircase into the main body of the warehouse. He picked his moment carefully, listening to the noise and moving only when the protection offered by the distractions downstairs was at its highest. He shut the door and went down the staircase.

And found himself face to face with Yassen Gregorovich.

"And what were you doing?" Gregorovich asked icily. Ben scrambled for a moment, trying to come up with an explanation. Then he looked at Gregorovich and realized that no excuse would save him. Gregorovich knew what he had been doing. He had to get out _now_.

Yassen was as furious as he could ever remember being. Not just with the MI6 agent that had slipped into the gang, but at himself for allowing it. He had become too distracted by Alex Rider and he had made mistakes. It could not be allowed to happen again.

"Boss?" came a voice from behind him. One of the men dealing with the shipment who had obviously not realized just what was happening. Yassen took out his gun and shot the spy before turning around. Ben's eyes bulged. He choked out a gasp and collapsed onto the floor.

The man who had interrupted him went white. "B… boss. Papers?" He stammered, waving a handful of papers vaguely about. He looked rather ill.

Yassen took the papers calmly. The man fled.

And when Yassen looked back, Ben was gone, leaving only a smear of red blood on the concrete where he had fallen.

--

* * *

--

Alex woke suddenly. The reason for it didn't become apparent immediately. Nothing in his room was out of place. Still, he rose quietly and padded out into the hallway. He wasn't wearing pajamas, merely track pants and a t-shirt, in case he needed to move quickly during the night. If something happened, he doubted K-unit would allow him time to get dressed and he didn't particularly want to be escorted across London wearing pajamas.

It didn't look like this was that time, though. There was no one coming to rush him out of bed. In fact, it seemed like K-unit was clustered in the living room.

Curiously, Alex looked in the room. He was surprised to see not just three members of K-unit but also another face that, despite its blandness, he knew well.

"Crawley," he said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Crawley turned and looked at him. Alex was surprised to see that he looked tired. "Alex. I'm afraid there is some bad news."

Alex looked at him uneasily. He didn't like the sound of that. He looked at the soldiers for support. They looked grim.

It was Snake who spoke. "Fox has been shot."

"Is he okay?" Alex asked hurriedly. His gaze flickered between their faces.

Crawley shook his head. "It's touch and go at the moment, Alex. We're not sure."

Alex sat down on the couch heavily. "Oh."

--

* * *

--

So how'd you like chapter 6? Think its great? Think it sucks? Think you spotted tonnes of grammatical errors that I should fix? Let me know, please!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Author's notes: Many, many embarrassingly profuse thanks to utemia who gave me concrit for this and other chapters. I'm not a very avid reader of spy or military genre, so I've made a few mistakes in this story. Things like Jack being allowed to leave and Ben's place as a safe house. But, hey, we can only learn, right?

--

* * *

--

Despite all their bantering, K-unit was still an elite SAS unit. They were part of the best military branch in the country. There were only two reasons that Alex stood any chance at leaving the house. The first was that they were not trying to keep him in. Their primary objective was to keep a threat _out_. So they were looking for people coming towards them, not people leaving. The second was that they were in the middle of London. No urban environment was ever going to be as secure as an isolated prison facility.

And Alex was determined. Ben had gone after Gregorovich and been shot. It wasn't going to happen again. He wasn't going to sit here and let other people put themselves in danger for him.

He would find Yassen Gregorovich and…

Alex hesitated. And what?

He shrugged it off. That would come later. Right now, he had to get out of here.

But how?

Jack couldn't help him. It was one thing to ask her to help him pickpocket a man so that he could investigate Damian Cray, it was another matter entirely to ask her to distract an SAS team so he could leave. Besides, she'd approved having them protect him rather than sending him out against Yassen. She probably wouldn't want him to go.

He'd have to have a distraction. But anything that so much as hinted at an attack would make them tighten security. Which was the opposite of what he needed.

He thought about the gadgets Smithers had given him. The smoke bomb would never work, of course. That would be seen as an attack. The Medical Alert bracelet that called MI6 rather than an ambulance had fitted with his cover as a sickly child (not that anyone believed it) but was rather beside the point now. However, he hefted the miniature deodorant can thoughtfully.

"It's a spin-off from the incense we made in Thailand," Smithers had explained when giving it to him. "It has shorter range but a quicker reaction time. One squirt of that and you'll know exactly what your enemies have had for lunch. Just make sure not to get caught in the spray," he cautioned. "Or you'll be joining them."

Alex grimaced at the thought. But it would work. He hoped.

--

* * *

--

The next morning, Alex woke them all by vomiting nosily into the toilet. Eagle, obviously on duty, was the first there. He took one look at Alex being sick and turned away, going green.

"Quick, Snake!" Eagle called sounding panicked. "He's been poisoned!"

Alex looked at him irritably in between vomiting. It wasn't very easy, Eagle was obviously standing as far down the hallway as he could without loosing sight of Alex. "I have not been poisoned," he rasped.

"How would you know?" Eagle asked. "They wouldn't have exactly labeled it, would they? 'Here there be poison'."

Snake pushed past him. "Have you eaten anything that we haven't?" He asked Alex urgently, hovering in the doorway. The toilet was in a separate room to the bathroom and therefore wasn't very big.

"No," Alex said hoarsely. "We have all our meals together." He leant back over the toilet. Eagle winced and looked away.

"No snacks? Drinks?" Snake asked.

"No snacks. Only the drinks in the fridge."

"They've been cleared." Snake sighed. "It's probably just the flu. You picked a good time to get sick, Alex."

"Sorry," Alex rasped, feeling a little guilty. Mostly he just felt ill. Smithers hadn't told him it would do that.

--

* * *

--

"Where's Cub?" Wolf asked as he returned to the house. He had been patrolling outside and just swapped shifts with Hawk.

"He's been poisoned," Eagle said helpfully.

Snake shot him a look. "He hasn't been poisoned," he reassured their leader. "He's sick in bed. It's probably just the flu."

"Does he need to see a doctor?" Wolf asked, a little lost. As part of their training they were taught first aid but the focus had been more on field dressing and splinting bones not on how to deal with sick children.

Snake frowned. "If he's still sick tomorrow then we'll take him," he decided. They accepted that. Snake was the most competent medic in the team. "I'm sure he hasn't been poisoned but there's no point taking chances."

--

* * *

--

At about ten o'clock, Alex crawled out of bed. He was starting to feel human again and if he left it any longer K-unit would be trying to wake him for lunch. They'd checked up on him a few times during the morning but he hadn't had any trouble looking genuinely ill. He felt it.

He dressed carefully, making sure he was wearing his modified Medical Alert bracelet, and made his way to the toilet. All the other windows would be watched but the window above the toilet was too small for an adult to fit through. As it was, Alex was going to have trouble squeezing through it. But it was located at the back of the house, so he wouldn't be visible from the street and once he was out it, he'd only have to worry about the single member of K-unit that was patrolling the streets.

Unless they noticed that he was gone. He squashed that thought as he hoisted himself up onto the toilet, careful not to hit the flush button with his knees. That would give him away. He winced at the creak that the window made as it was opened but it didn't jam or lock.

Then he squeezed himself out, legs first and suffered only a moment of panic as his shoulders stuck in the frame. But with a little wiggling, he was free and dropped to the ground.

--

* * *

--

Jack came home that afternoon to find what seemed like a full scale armament happening in the living room. The SAS men were cleaning and assembling guns, looking ready to go to war.

"What's going on?" she demanded a tad anxiously. "Where's Alex?"

"He left," Wolf grunted.

Jack looked alarmed. "How did that happen?" she asked.

"Well," Eagle said, explaining. "He was sick, so we left him alone. It'd do him no good if we all caught whatever he had. Only when we went to check on him later, he was gone. Either he got better quickly or he was faking being sick. Probably faking it."

"So he got past four highly trained SAS operatives and vanished?" Jack clarified.

Eagle nodded sullenly, good humour gone. "We didn't think he'd _leave_. We're supposed to be watching for people trying to take him _away_."

"So what are you doing? Are you going after him?" She looked at them, one after another. She wanted to ask if he was in danger but didn't. Alex always seemed to be in danger.

"MI6 is arranging it," Wolf said tersely. "He'll still be safe."

--

* * *

--

Alex hesitated when he reached the warehouses along the river of the Thames. He didn't have a plan. He wasn't sure if Yassen would be here. He didn't know what they were planning. Granted, he never usually had much information before his missions, but somehow it felt like he had less than normal.

It didn't deter him. He'd come this far and he knew that evading K-unit again would be impossible. This was his only chance.

It was the middle of the day. The place was buzzing with activity. Trucks were going into and coming out of warehouses. People were scurrying to and fro, carrying boxes and papers. Most were wearing hardhats and work boots. Alex walked purposefully through the mass, as though he knew exactly where he was going. He didn't hurry, just walked at a determined pace, weaving through the traffic.

The numbers that he had seen in Ben's file belonged to a group of three warehouses near the end of the row. Beyond that there was a large empty space, maybe for parking, or for unloading goods off boats. Then the warehouses started up again.

Alex looked at them and kept walking. Like the other buildings, the doors were open and men hurried to and fro. Boxes were being moved. A forklift was operating somewhere inside. Yet, unlike the other warehouses, there were no trucks. Alex doubted it would be apparent to anyone who was not already suspicious, but for all the movement, there was little actually going inside or coming out of the buildings.

Alex had nearly gone past the third of the warehouses when he noticed a metal stairwell up the side of the building. It was a fire exit. Without pausing to consider, he ducked down the side of the building and ran up it, trying to muffle his footsteps on the bare metal. About halfway up, he had to slow to a walk as the excess movement of his running was causing it to shake.

The door at the top of the stairwell had no windows. It was impossible for him to see in. He hesitated. The nearest window was too far across for him to lean out and look through. If there was anybody inside, he was caught. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Inside was a fairly bare room that seemed to have been converted for use as an office. There was one other door set into the opposite wall. There were a few chairs and a desk.

And sitting at that desk was Yassen Gregorovich who had looked up the instant the door was opened, eyes cool, assessing and accepting. "Alex Rider," he said. "What a surprise."

--

* * *

--

Alex sat down in one of the chairs and stared at Yassen across the desk. He decided that this really, really had been a bad idea. He should stop doing things without thinking about them. "Hi."

A small smile played about the Russian's lips. "Has MI6 sent you?" He asked. "I wondered if they would."

Alex thought about it. It wasn't a bad assumption except, he realized, that he didn't know why Yassen was in London. He hadn't even thought to ask. He'd been too distracted by the knowledge that Yassen was alive. "Ah, no. I'm not actually supposed to be here."

"You were supposed to have remained under guard," Yassen stated.

"Well, yeah," Alex said slowly, trying to work out how to explain the whole story. He hadn't been joking when he told Eagle that the truth would probably make Yassen want to kill him. "Sort of." He smiled apologetically. "I never told them what you told me, so when they found out you weren't dead, they must have thought you'd come after me. Or something." He remembered that they had seen Yassen near his house. He hoped that they were wrong. The fact that he was still alive gave him some confidence.

"An … _interesting_ assumption," Yassen said. Which didn't do much to put Alex's fears at rest. "Did you believe them?"

Which, to Alex's mind, was a very nasty question to ask. There were all kinds of traps hidden in that question. A wrong answer would be highly offensive. And possibly lethal. "I couldn't exactly prove them wrong," he evaded. "And then they said they saw you around, so they wouldn't have listened anyway."

At that Yassen frowned. "Yes. I was given some information regarding you. It was highly surprising. I have been trying to find you ever since I recovered."

Alex looked at him, startled. "You've been trying to find me? Why?"

That amused Yassen. "To see if you acted upon the information I gave you, of course. I had been certain that you would." The amusement faded. "But you had vanished entirely. Much had changed at Scorpia during my absence, and I heard nothing from them."

Alex took a deep breath. "I went to Scorpia," he said. "It took me a while to find them." He grimaced, remembering the mansion and BASE jumping into a secure facility.

Yassen was watching him with an odd light in his eyes. "Yet you didn't stay with them," he sounded disappointed.

"I would have stayed with them if they hadn't pushed me," Alex said weakly. It sounded like an excuse, even to his own ears. "I told them I couldn't kill. Not deliberately. But, Mrs. Rothman, she said if I had the right target then I would be able to. So she sent me after someone from MI6. Someone I hated then. But I couldn't do it."

Yassen raised an eyebrow, which was possibly as close to expressing surprise as he ever got. "I was nineteen before they sent me on an assignment," he said, and there was a hint of _something_ in his voice that made Alex uncomfortable. "And I was one of the youngest that they had sent out. Sending you out must have been a serious oversight."

Alex shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't think it was an oversight. Mrs. Rothman… she didn't like me." It seemed a poor summation of her feelings. The anger at his father's betrayal, the warped kindness, her intent to kill him long before he betrayed them to MI6.

"Julia Rothman loved your father," Yassen said.

"It seems like a lot of people did," Alex said.

Yassen gave a small smile. "He was very personable. Much like you, in fact."

Alex looked away awkwardly. "She didn't like me. I mean, I found out why later." He stopped. Should he say it now? He shrunk away from the thought. "She tried to kill me." He looked at Yassen. "I would have stayed," he repeated quietly. "I preferred it there."

It was a confession he hadn't made before. But it had been true at the time. He had liked the way that everyone was friendly to him. The way everyone had greeted him, had known who his father was. It was a direct contrast to his training with the SAS where he had been unwanted. Only, it had been fake. They had been using him too. At least MI6 wanted him alive.

"They tried to kill you?" Yassen asked quietly. There was no emotion in his voice.

Alex nodded. "Yeah, first with Invisible Sword," he hesitated, unsure whether to explain further, then pushed on. "Then, when that didn't work, they sent a sniper after me."

"Then you are very lucky. Snipers sent by Scorpia do not often miss."

"He didn't miss. I mean, he hit me. I would have died except…" he shrugged, not wanting to get into the medical side of the story. "Yeah, I was lucky."

"Why did they try to kill you?" Yassen asked. Alex winced. Now it was time to explain.

He took a deep breath and tried to find his courage. Almost certainly, he would rather be anywhere else. He wondered it Yassen would stop him if he stood and walked out. He had come here of his own choice, after all. But he couldn't do that, either. He had come here to end this, to set it all straight and that was what he was going to do. Yassen didn't deserve to be lied to either.

"You said my father was an assassin and he worked for Scorpia," Alex started, trying to explain coherently. Once he started talking it was easier, but he didn't have the courage to look at Yassen. "But he wasn't, not really. He worked for MI6. He was spying on Scorpia the whole time. His capture in Malta and his death on the bridge were set ups. And Mrs Rothman found out. She had him killed. She got his best friend to put a bomb on his plane. That's why she hated me."

He stayed still, looking anywhere but at the man in front of him. There was no movement, no sound, nothing to acknowledge that the Russian was still there.

"You are certain of this?" Yassen said after a long silence. Alex still didn't look at him.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I am."

There was another long silence. Alex didn't dare move. He had told the truth. What happened now was out of his hands. Yet… he couldn't help but be afraid. Would Yassen kill him, now that the John Rider he knew had proven to be an act?

Somehow, it seemed Yassen knew what he was thinking. "Look at me, Alex," he said. His voice was almost gentle. Against his will, Alex found his eyes dragged up to the other man. It was almost a relief to see that he didn't look angry or upset.

"The reasons we begin something are very rarely the reasons we have at the end," Yassen said. "Your father saved my life. It would have cost him nothing to let me die. Indeed, if what you say is true..." He paused reflectively. "It would have been better for him if I had. That is not the action of a man merely keeping his cover, Alex. And for that, I am grateful." His voice became oddly intense. "I may have loved your father, Alex, but I also love you."

Involuntarily, Alex looked away. Yassen had said the same thing onboard Air Force One, but he had been injured and dying then. Somehow, to have it said _now_ was far more personal and uncomfortable.

"I…" Alex started then hesitated because he didn't know what to say in reply. What was there to say in reply?

"When I was your age, I would not have believed it either," Yassen said a hint of regret in his voice. "I_ did not_ believe it. But it is the truth."

Alex didn't have time to answer that, either because a moment later there was a knock on the door. A man came in and, giving Alex an odd look, handed Yassen some papers. "Johnston says it's ready," he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "Sir."

Yassen took the papers calmly. "Very well," he said. The man took that as a dismissal and backed out of the room.

Yassen flicked through the papers and then looked at Alex. "Even if MI6 did not send you to, it seems you are about to discover why I am in London. And now that you know, I cannot allow you to leave until it is over."

Alex looked at him, alarmed. He knew he had no choice in the matter. Yassen might not kill him but he did not doubt that the Russian knew many non-lethal methods of subduing him. He didn't know what was going on but it was always better to be conscious and unrestrained. "Just until it's over?" he asked.

Yassen nodded in affirmative. "It will not be long. The shipment will come in tonight. It should be gone by tomorrow evening."

"And then I'm free to leave?" Alex asked uneasily. He didn't like the thought of being kept here, even under no threat, while _something_ happened.

"As free as you were to enter."

Alex smiled sardonically. "That's not awfully reassuring."

--

* * *

--

So, those of you who were waiting for Yassen (and I think you know who you are) was it worth the wait?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Author's notes: Well, it's finally here! I know you guys have been waiting a while (and mostly patient, too) so I hope it lives up to your expectations. As always, thanks to utemia, who beta-read it. It's thanks to her input that the SAS teams are believable. Although, any mistakes are mine. :D I hope she's happy with it. As always, thanks to the reviewers, I try to answer as many as I can, but I appreciate you all. (On that note, 100 reviews? WOW.)

--

* * *

--

Alan Blunt was a man used to dealing with setbacks. His entire job revolved around predicting outcomes and unforeseen events. He never made a plan without a sufficient number of back up plans in place. This was no exception.

MI6 had no means of tracking Alex Rider. The gadgets he had been given, designed for use in a hostile environments, produced no signal until activated by the wearer. But that was almost irrelevant. There was only one place that Rider would have gone. It had not been anticipated but it was the only logical option.

What to do about it, on the other hand, required consideration.

The Black Hand had come to the attention of MI6 by making numerous overseas contacts. Including, they suspected, Scorpia. Gregorovich's arrival in London had confirmed this. The information that their first agent had uncovered about _why_ the Black Hand were dealing with Scorpia had made continued observation a priority.

Scorpia had been diminished after their loss to Alex. Their second defeat had weakened them even more. But they were far from finished. The money they would make from the drugs was paltry in comparison to what they had made from other contracts.

But if it succeeded, then the Black Hand would own the English underground. And Scorpia would own them. They would have an undeniable foothold on British soil. Alan Blunt was not prepared to have the organization responsible for a tenth of the world's terrorism, the same organization that had nearly killed millions of English schoolchildren, operating out of his country. It was inconceivable.

Yet Ben Daniels had confirmed this information and included a rough timeframe of when the shipment of unknown drugs would arrive. Action had become a necessity.

Yet acting before the drugs had arrived would mean loosing the opportunity to destroy them. It would be simple enough for Scorpia to retrieve the drugs and resell them to other gangs within London. They needed to capture the drugs before they made their way onto the streets of London and then trace them back to the suppliers.

Alan Blunt paused and considered the situation. Ben Daniels had been discovered. They had no agent within the Black Hand to notify them of the drugs arriving.

But they did have Alex Rider.

He tapped his fingers thoughtfully on his desk. Rider had a remarkable talent for finding information. The drugs would arrive soon. They could go in now, retrieve Rider and lose the drugs. Or they could wait for Rider to send the signal and risk the drugs making it to the street and causing chaos.

Alan Blunt weighed up the options.

They would wait.

--

* * *

--

"So what _are_ you doing here?" Alex asked curiously, a few hours later. He'd tagged along with Yassen as the assassin walked around the warehouse, checking papers and making sure the last boxes were loaded properly. Yet he hadn't seen anything that jumped out at him. Everything looked boring and normal.

A nearby man overheard Alex's question and cast him a nervous glance. He moved away slowly, watching Yassen out of the corner of his eyes. A part of Alex was amused; the rest knew what kind of reputation Yassen had.

"Two hours and twenty seven minutes," Yassen said without looking at his watch. "That's longer than I expected you to wait."

Alex scowled at him before realizing with a start that he had just, possibly, been teased. It was a disconcerting feeling.

"What are you doing here?" He asked again, ignoring the feeling. "What is this?"

"This?" Yassen looked around him. Alex might have imagined the distaste in his voice. "Drugs, Alex, little more than that."

Alex was surprised that he had answered. But it didn't seem right. "And MI6 are interested in that because?"

"Perhaps that is a question you should ask them," Yassen said. He moved away.

Alex followed him. He wanted answers. "You said you were keeping me here," he pointed out. "You might as well tell me _why_."

Yassen looked at him. Alex fought the urge to check that his MedAlert bracelet was on his wrist. Yassen would surely notice that. "That would not be wise," Yassen said eventually. "You will not like it and," he gave a small half smile, "I suspect you would try to stop it."

Alex didn't deny it. "I thought you hated drugs," he said instead. Sure, Damian Cray had been behind Eagle Strike but he had implied that Yassen, at the very least, agreed with him.

Yassen nodded. "You are correct. But this was the job that I was given." He didn't add that he had been involved with many things that he did not agree with. As long as he was paid, he did not care.

--

* * *

--

"You and I are much alike, Alex," Yassen said later, in a lull between activity.

"I know," Alex said simply. Yassen looked at him sharply. "I was talking to …" Alex hesitated, searching for words to describe Ash. "… one of my father's friends. When he was with MI6. You came up."

Yassen nodded slowly. "Who was it?"

"Ash," Alex replied. "I don't know his name. You stabbed him in Malta, I think."

At that, Yassen nodded again but his gaze was distant. "I remember," he said softly. "Malta. I have never been back there, you know. That place… it was my greatest failure. Eagle Strike did not even compare. And now you say it was a set up."

Alex shifted uncomfortably. He couldn't even begin to imagine how Yassen was dealing with the information with fourteen years worth of memories to rearrange around it. He remembered the almost perpetual confusion that had surrounded him as he learnt the truth.

"Yeah." Alex swallowed. "It was a set up. To get him away from Scorpia."

Alex didn't dare break the silence that fell after that.

--

* * *

--

The briefing, when it happened, was short. They were in an empty, yet sturdy building not far from the warehouses that would serve as their base of operations. K-unit was at the front. Other SAS units, brought in by Alan Blunt, also attended.

"We assume that Alex Rider went to seek out Yassen Gregorovich. At this point in time, his status is unknown. Evidence indicates that he and Gregorovich are currently in or around the warehouses located here," he touched a map of the district. "The primary objective for K-unit will be to identify Rider's current status and his protection and retrieval when the signal is given. M-Unit, J-Unit, your primary objective will be to secure the shipment and to take down the hostiles guarding the warehouse and shipment. Your secondary objective, should an opportunity present itself, will be the capture or removal of Yassen Gregorovich."

Alan Blunt looked over the men in front of him. They were grimfaced and ready. He nodded slightly. "Snipers will go into position here and here," he touched more places on the map, first a warehouse close to their base that would give a nearly complete view of the loading dock, then one across the river. "Report any movement you see in the area. It is essential that Rider is not caught in the cross fire and that you wait for his signal before acting. You know the drill. Dismissed."

--

* * *

--

They were still there late that evening, long after all the other workers had gone home. The other warehouses along the docks were empty but the three belonging to the Black Hand were filled with restless energy.

"You have a shipment coming in," Alex guessed, watching the preparations happening in the warehouse.

"A very important shipment," Yassen agreed.

"What is it?"

Yassen stared at him for a long time, expression considering. "Drugs. A new concoction that they wish to introduce to England," he said eventually. "The Black Hand have made a deal with Scorpia who have assigned me with ensuring that the shipment arrives successfully."

"Why would they go to all this trouble just to get a different type of drug?" Alex asked, puzzled.

Yassen shrugged. "That is not my concern."

"But you know why," Alex said.

Yassen smiled. "Yes." He stared at Alex again. Alex shifted uncomfortably. These looks were happening far too often for his liking. "The Black Hand are attempting to instigate a … takeover, if you will. Having control over this drug will give them an edge over other gangs. Once they have the resources, it will be a simple matter for the situation to escalate into a gang war with only one probable outcome."

"A war?" Alex stared at him, horrified. He tried to image it. Gangs at the best of times were not peaceful. "People will die!"

"People are always dieing," Yassen said calmly. "This will merely give them a way."

Alex hesitated. He had to call MI6 to stop the shipment. But Yassen would know. He would be placing himself in danger.

And calling MI6 would mean that Yassen would fail again. Alex couldn't imagine Scorpia taking that well.

Alex didn't flip the switch on his MedAlert bracelet. The shipment wasn't here yet, he rationalized. He would wait until it was. Then … then he would decide.

--

* * *

--

Alex was still deliberating later when Yassen moved him from the warehouse to the stairs on the outside of the office. They overlooked the empty concrete area that could have been made for parking or storage. Jutting out from the bank, into the river, was a short small boat dock.

Alex scanned the area. The lights from the warehouse provided dim illumination only. There was no boat at the dock and the only people in the area were the Black Hand members. Some of them were patrolling as guards. Alex caught a glimpse of one of two.

If he had been Ben, he would have recognized one of them as Mike and might have been expecting what would happen. As it was, he didn't.

The men below milled around. The night was far from silent but Alex detected an expectant tension in the air. Beside him, Yassen looked at his watch and frowned.

"They're late."

--

* * *

--

The guards patrolling the area were carefully picked. Unfortunately for the Black Hand, they had not been picked with the interests of the gang in mind. Once they were at a safe distance from the warehouses, Mike nodded to his partner and pulled out a cell phone.

"Manny!" Mike hissed into his phone. His partner scanned the area around them, swinging his flashlight backwards and forwards. "It's happening! The boat's coming now!"

He paused, listening.

"Yes, yes," he said impatiently. "I know the deal. But, look, there's a change of plans. Gregorovich has some kid with him. I dunno who he is, but for christ's sake, don't hit the kid!"

He paused again. "Sure thing," he sighed in defeat. "How long will it take you to get here?"

"We'll be waiting," Mike said and snapped the phone shut. He nodded to his partner. "They're on their way."

--

* * *

--

So was it worth the wait? Or was it just confusing? Tell me and I can fix it.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

FFNet has changed formatting again, hasn't it? (sigh) I was only just getting used to the last one. Sorry if the formatting is bad.

Alright, it's been a while, I admit, but here's the next chapter. This chapter doesn't quite sit right with me for some reason, but anyway, here it is.

Enjoy!

* * *

Mike paced nervously around the perimeter of the warehouse. Almost unnoticeably, his hands shook on the flashlight, causing the beam to shiver across the ground. His partner didn't say anything and if the flashlight in his hands did the same, well, nobody had to know.

"They should be here by now," he muttered to himself, eyes darting around. 

"They'll be here soon, Mikey," his partner muttered. Mike nodded halfheartedly. This was a bad idea. What had he been thinking? You didn't sell out the gang. No matter what. You just didn't. If they found out…

But Gregorovich was some kind of madman. So cold, so calm, never fuckin' twitching. There was something wrong with those damn eyes. Those damn demon eyes. 

It had to be worth it. 

His partner nudged him. "They're here."

Mikey breathed a huge sigh of … relief, maybe. Or not. Didn't matter now. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Standing on the stairs offered them a good view of the unloading bay, but Alex didn't exactly appreciate it. He held his breath in tense anticipation as the boat, slowly, slowly came into dock. He should call MI6. He clenched his hands into fists and looked at Yassen out of the corner of his eye. 

He couldn't. Not yet. If Yassen left him alone, for just a moment, then …

But he wouldn't, Alex realized. Yassen would know, had to know, that he would call MI6, if left alone. He turned back to watching the boat. 

It was unloaded smoothly, with precise motions that spoke of practice and many, many repetitions. There was tension in the air, though, that belied the ease of the men below. 

Both Yassen and Alex noticed the danger before anything happened. It was mere instinct, a hunch that something wasn't quite right. It saved their lives.

High on the steps, Yassen pulled Alex backwards, towards the door, just as the first round of gunfire sounded. A few bullets zinged off the wall where they had been standing. One sliced a line across the side of Yassen's arm. He did not even flinch. Once again, Alex admired his control.

Then the bullets kept coming and he stumbled backwards, diving towards the cover of the building. The motions of the men below erupted into chaos. Boxes were knocked over, for cover or in haste. Men jumped into the river, ran for the building, fell in pain. Shouts, gunfire, screams of pain, echoed through the night air.

Alex tumbled inside, caught himself, and twisted to his feet. Yassen was already standing, gun drawn and alert. 

"What's happening?" he said urgently, voice not quite catching.

"Betrayal," Yassen said, and there was something so _dark_ in his voice. Alex shivered, suddenly thankful he hadn't pushed his luck. 

* * *

The sudden shooting was audible from the base where the SAS teams were stationed. Even if it hadn't been, they would have known about it via the reconnaissance team. "Do we go?" Eagle asked tensely, hands half curling around his gun. The teams waited tensely for the answer.

Wolf, as the leader, hesitated, then made the decision. He shook his head. "We wait for the signal."

"Damn," Eagle said, worry colouring his voice. "I hope Cub isn't in the middle of that." 

Wolf snorted. Knowing Cub, even as little as they did, that would be exactly where he was.

* * *

The shipment was ruined, Yassen knew that.

The rival gang would get their hands on at least some of it. The Black Hand would no longer have complete control over the drug. Scorpia would attribute the failure to his incompetence. He had waited too long. Hadn't been careful enough. Hadn't expected betrayal. Had trusted Johnston to control his men. Had… something. Had failed. 

Anger burned slowly within him. 

But … there was a way to ensure that the failure was not complete. A token gesture, surely, and one that burnt more bridges than it would build but… he didn't care. He couldn't go back to Scorpia anymore.

"Call MI6, Alex," Yassen said distantly, looking out of the warehouse. He could see small pulses of light as guns fired from behind blockades and buildings. 

"What?" Alex twisted to look at him in surprise. 

"I'm getting too old for this," Yassen said quietly, not moving. "Eagle Strike was supposed to be the end. It was a mistake to go back."

"Scorpia doesn't tolerate failure," Alex said, trying to find words to articulate the things he did and did not want to say. He stayed crouched down, watching the shadowed profile of the assassin. 

Yassen smiled sharply. "They'll find that I still have a few tricks left."

Alex flicked the switch on his MedAlert bracelet and sent out the distress call that K-Unit had been waiting for. 

* * *

The alarm beeped shrilly. Wasting no time, the SAS sprang into action. Moving like the highly trained, well oiled teams that they were they were out of the safe house before the alarm had finished beeping. 

Everything had been planned. The paths they would travel, the location, the actions they would take. And, for once, those plans didn't fail them. 

The two gangs, locked in combat, could never have expected a third party. Certainly not a third party who outclassed them as thoroughly as the SAS did. 

They went in brutally. Opposing gunfire stopped within minutes. Remaining hostiles were found and corralled within minutes after that. The area was deemed clear.

"Right," Wolf said, looking around. "Now where the _hell_ is Cub?"

* * *

Cub had followed Yassen out of the building, using the backdoors that the Russian had known about. He waited hesitantly, unsure if he was supposed to be there, yet not quite able to leave. 

"So, um," Alex offered weakly, breaking the silence as Yassen prepared to leave. He hesitated in the doorway, knowing he had to stay. "I'll see you around?"

Yassen smiled slightly, half turning to look at him. "I would hope not. And if you do, Alex Rider," there was a hint of a laugh in his voice, "I would suggest that you do not follow me."

* * *

"You are in trouble." Wolf glared at Alex when they found him. 

Alex sighed. "It all worked out in the end, didn't it?" he said. "I signaled."

Wolf scowled at him. "You think that we just sat on our hands when you disappeared?" he asked gruffly. "That you could just leave and come back when you felt like it? It doesn't work like that, kid. You work to _our_ schedule. We don't work to yours."

"It's not like you would have let me go if I'd told you," Alex pointed out reasonably. The look on Wolf's face made him wince. Obviously that wasn't the right thing to say.

* * *

Okay, so that's the last chapter. Just the Epilogue to go now. Good or bad? Please tell me.


	10. Epilogue

Epilogue

Disclaimer: I'm not Anthony Horowitz, I don't own Alex Rider.

AN: Lets just skip this and get right into the story. I know you want to. Enjoy!

-

* * *

-

Tulip Jones stood in the office on the seventh floor of Royal and General Bank. She stood away from the desk, staring out the solitary window. The world beyond was a dreary grey, made worse by the drizzling rain.

Behind her, Alan Blunt read the report that she had handed him in contemplative silence. "That was a greater success than anticipated," he said with something that was a distant cousin to a smile.

Tulip Jones didn't look at him. She was too professional to allow her feelings to interfere with her job… yet the air between them was fraught with tension.

"Alex Rider has again made it very clear that he no longer wishes to be involved," she told him.

He nodded. "I expected as much."

She did turn to look at him at that. "Will you use him again?" she asked. Her voice was flat, as if tired.

Alan Blunt held her gaze calmly, with no emotion. "If necessary."

-

* * *

-

"…largest drug bust of the decade," the reporter proclaimed. "Police have arrested more than a hundred men and the sources indicate that more than a million pounds worth of drugs were seized…"

Ben flicked off the TV as the door opened.

"Hey," Alex said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the doorway. He didn't know why he had come to visit. He hadn't seen any of the other members of K-unit since the night of the raid. MI6 had lifted the protection on him almost immediately. He hadn't even said goodbye to them.

"Hi, Alex," Ben said, seeming genuinely pleased to see him. "I was just watching your work on the news."

Alex grinned. "That was hardly my work. I just hid out the back while it was all happening."

Ben chuckled but didn't look like he believed him. "The guys visited before. To hear them tell it, you instigated the entire thing."

Alex shook his head. "The closest I was to being in danger was when Wolf growled at me," he denied. "Though that was scary enough, let me tell you."

"You don't have to," Ben said. "I got an earful myself. Apparently it's _my _fault that you ran away."

Alex's grin faltered. "You got shot for me again," he said, subdued.

"I wouldn't say it was for you," Ben said seriously, then joked, "But you know, if this is a prediction for my future then I'm a little worried. As much as I love field work, I don't want to get shot every time I go out."

Alex grinned weakly, trying to see the humour. "You'll just have to learn to dodge better."

-

* * *

-

Somewhere, deep inside some innocent looking building, the report of the failure landed on a desk. Calm hands picked it up. Calm eyes read it, considered it, decided.

"Gregorovich is a failure," said Dr. Three clasping his hands together. "He has failed us twice now. He has led Alex Rider directly to us." He paused for a moment, contemplating. "Kill him."

The man standing opposite him nodded. He was an assassin. He had trained on Malagosto beside Yassen Gregorovich. They had been, not friends, but friendly acquaintances. It didn't bother him in the slightest.

"As you wish." He turned on his heel and left.

-

* * *

-

Yassen Gregorovich knew he was being followed the second he left the airport. It was an instinctual feeling, but one he knew to listen to. Pausing, as though to look for a taxi, he took a moment to scan his surroundings. The airport had been busy, so there were many people. Most of them, he ignored.

But one…

Yassen Gregorovich knew that face. And he knew where it was from. He grimaced. He had known this would happen, but he had hoped for more time. But it was not to be.

He chose a taxi and curtly told the driver his destination. He watched as the man took out a cell phone and dialed, eyes glued to the number plate on the cab. Then, Yassen Gregorovich began to plan.

He left the taxi and the second set of lights. He dodged easily across the lanes of traffic and ran, taking alleyways and shortcuts. He hid himself in the subway, masking his presence in the hundreds of others there. He kept moving, being as unpredictable as possible.

He evaded for about two hours. Then the man caught up to him.

"Don't move," whispered a voice into his ear, even as a cold hard gun barrel pressed into the small of his back. He had paused to take a breath in a tiny abandoned alleyway. The area around them was deserted. Now he was caught.

"Who sent you, Alister?" Yassen asked. He was breathing slowly, calmly. He was relaxed.

The gun dug into his back. "Dr. Three. He's … not happy with you."

"I didn't expect he would be," Yassen said, and spun into action. He twisted around, striking like a snake. The gun went off, but the bullet buried itself harmlessly in the wall. The gun fell, clattering to the ground as the two men fought briefly, violently.

Then Yassen had him pinned, kneeling over him, hands clamped around the other mans throat.

"They'll keep sending us after you," the man croaked, still fighting uselessly. "You're a dead man walking, Gregorovich. You screwed up. Now you have to pay the price."

Yassen considered that. He could run, he knew, and stay ahead of them. But it would be a constant thing and any mistake would mean his death. He wasn't a man that liked running. There was only one way Scorpia would truly leave him alone now. The decision had been made, he realized, before he left the airport. Why else had he let himself be caught? "Tell me where Dr. Three is."

"I underwent the same resistance training you did, Gregorovich." The man laughed. "You think you can make me talk?"

Yassen smiled slowly. It wasn't a friendly expression. "Yes."

-

* * *

-

Alex had only just got home when the door bell rang. He sighed. He wanted to just lie down and sleep. It had been a long few days. Instead he got up and answered the door.

Tom was standing there, clutching a computer game. He grinned, his look of worry vanishing. "Alex! You're back! I came around the other day, but you just vanished! Were did you go? Was it…" he lowered his voice, "MI6?"

Alex sighed. He forced himself to smile at his friend. "Come in. I'll tell you what happened."

-

* * *

-

Okay, so all wrapped up. If you think that I've left anything out, tell me! I think I got it all. Ben gets to live, Yassen gets his revenge (maybe), Alex gets to go home, Tom gets remembered, Alan Blunt and Mrs. Jones get another scene, and Scorpia get taken down a peg or two (maybe)…

So, thankyou! Everyone who read this, everyone who reviewed, everyone who put this on their story alert and favourites list. Thankyou all. It's done.


End file.
